Just Pretend

Just Pretend - Chapter 1  It was a rare day off, and Evelyn Carter had spent the night indulging in a horror movie. The eerie atmosphere relied solely on the background music and sudden screams—nothing truly spine-chilling. It was as bland as tap water. Out of sheer stubbornness, she forced herself to sit through the entire thing. The moment the ending credits rolled, Evelyn felt an overwhelming sense of relief. She closed her eyes, her mind immediately sinking into drowsiness. Just as she was about to drift off, a loud bang suddenly echoed through the apartment. A sharp, resounding thud. Evelyn’s eyes snapped open. Through the faint moonlight seeping in from the gap in the curtains, she turned her gaze toward the door. Outside, a man’s slurred voice, thick with the weight of alcohol, mumbled incoherently. His footsteps stumbled, then veered off in another direction. A door opened. Then shut. The sounds gradually faded. Evelyn kept her eyes on the door for several more seconds. Only when silence completely took over did she finally relax. Pressing her lips together, she felt a surge of irritation hit her belatedly. How many times had this happened this week? Once her sleep was interrupted, it was nearly impossible for her to doze off again. She rolled onto her side, shutting her eyes, and let her thoughts drift back to the movie she had just watched. Hmm. It was supposed to be a horror film, right? Or maybe just another cheap, low-budget flop that thought it could be scary. … Half-asleep, Evelyn’s mind inexplicably conjured up the grotesque face of the ghost from the movie. Three seconds later. She abruptly sat up and switched on the bedside lamp. The rest of the night, she barely slept. Every time she hovered between wakefulness and dreams, she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was a bloodied, grotesque face staring right at her from the shadows. It wasn’t until the first light of dawn seeped into the room that exhaustion finally claimed her. The next morning, Evelyn was woken up by the shrill ringing of her phone. After staying up late and getting barely any sleep, her head pounded as if needles were pricking at her skull. Annoyed, she sluggishly reached for her phone and answered. On the other end, a familiar voice mumbled, “I’ll call you back later.” “…” Evelyn’s eyelids twitched. Her brain short-circuited for two full seconds. So she had been dragged out of her much-needed sleep. For this? And it wasn’t even a proper conversation—just a damn trailer for a conversation. Her irritation flared instantly. “Are you f*****g seri—” Before she could finish, the call had already ended. Like a punch thrown into cotton, all her pent-up frustration had nowhere to go. Evelyn exhaled, annoyed, then lay there for a while before grabbing her phone to check the time. Almost 2 PM. No point in lazing around any longer. She grabbed a jacket, threw it over her shoulders, and finally got out of bed. As she stepped into the bathroom to brush her teeth, her phone rang again. She freed a hand to tap the speaker button. The same voice came through, this time with a dramatic groan. “Damn it, I just ran into someone from high school. And I look like absolute s**t—greasy hair, no makeup. Kill me now.” “Not that easy to die.” Evelyn’s voice was muffled by toothpaste foam. “You’re just being dramatic.” “…” There was a brief pause before her friend, Chloe Mitchell, decided not to argue. “Wanna go out tonight? Reporter Carter, you’ve been working overtime for a full week. If you don’t have some fun soon, I’m worried you might actually drop dead.” Evelyn hummed. “Where to?” “There’s this bar near your office. Not sure if you’ve been, but my coworker says the owner is ridiculously—” Chloe abruptly stopped. “Wait, why is there so much water noise on your end? Are you washing dishes?” “Washing up.” A beat of silence. Then, Chloe gasped. “You just woke up?” “Mhm.” “It’s already two in the afternoon! What the hell were you doing last night?” “Watching a horror movie.” “What movie?” “Ghosts When You Wake.” Chloe clearly recognized the title. She choked. “That’s not even a horror movie.” Evelyn ignored her. “I watched it and went to bed. But then, in the middle of the night, I woke up… and just like in the movie, I saw a ghost.” “…” “I had to fight it all night.” Chloe was unimpressed. “Why the hell are you suddenly talking about R-rated topics?” Evelyn raised an eyebrow. “How is that R-rated?” “What kind of fight lasts the whole night?” “…” “Alright, enough about f*****g ghosts. Let’s go check out some men instead,” Chloe declared with a grin. “Real, hot, living, breathing men.” “I’d rather stick to ghosts,” Evelyn deadpanned as she grabbed her phone and walked out of the bathroom. “At least they’re free.” “Who said men aren’t free? We can totally ogle them without spending a cent.” “…Fair point.” After hanging up, Evelyn texted her landlord again about last night’s disturbance. Then, after a moment of hesitation, she added a message saying she might not renew her lease when the contract ended. Two months ago, she had moved to Brighton from Willowdale. Chloe had helped her find this place. It wasn’t bad—no major issues. Except that it was a shared apartment. The landlord had converted an 800-square-foot space into three separate rooms, each with its own bathroom, but no shared kitchen or balcony. The rent was cheap, though. Evelyn didn’t have high demands for living spaces. The location was convenient, and the area was lively. She had even considered staying long-term. That was… until the day she ran into the guy next door. And ever since then, things had spiraled into this situation. By the time night fell, the city had fully awakened, its lights twinkling like scattered fireflies. The streets were buzzing, and the nightlife had just begun. After changing into a fresh outfit and applying some light makeup, Evelyn grabbed her bag and responded to Chloe’s relentless texts with a voice message: “Heading out now.” They were meeting at the subway station before heading to a bar Chloe had mentioned earlier. It was located just across from Westwood Square. Past a narrow alley, a line of neon signs lit up the storefronts one by one. A district that only came alive after sundown. A place infamous for its nightlife. Locals called it Temptation Alley. Having never been here before, it took them a while to find the bar. Tucked into a small corner, the name caught Evelyn’s attention. “Overtime.” Simple black sign. Sharp white lettering. Amid the sea of flashing, gaudy neon, it stood out in a way that almost made it look like a tiny barber shop instead of a bar. Chloe eyed it skeptically. “This better be the right place.” To Evelyn’s surprise, the inside wasn’t as dead as she had expected. It was still early—not peak hours yet—but more than half the seats were already taken. A woman sat onstage with a guitar, her head lowered as she sang a slow, soulful tune. Behind the counter, a bartender with bleached blond hair was flipping bottles effortlessly, moving with the ease of a seasoned pro. Evelyn ordered the cheapest drink on the menu. Chloe scanned the room, then let out a disappointed sigh. “Where’s the hot owner? I don’t see anyone particularly handsome.” Evelyn leaned her chin on her hand. “Maybe it’s the bartender.” “Hell no! My coworker swore that this guy is basically the face of Temptation Alley.” “Maybe he calls himself that.” “?” A look from Chloe made Evelyn sit up straighter. “Just saying.” Then, out of nowhere, Chloe stilled. “Wait. Ten o’clock direction. Is that him?” Evelyn followed her gaze. And just as someone called out—“Yo, West!”—her eyes locked onto him.